


In His Clutches

by kisslicknipsuck



Series: Snarry Drabbles [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:38:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisslicknipsuck/pseuds/kisslicknipsuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Voldemort's truly vanquished, how can Harry still speak Parseltongue?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In His Clutches

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Parseltongue" for LJ's snarry100

Harry's palms were definitely _not_ sweating while he waited by the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office. And even if they were, it was only because it was unreasonably warm in the castle that evening—certainly not because he was nervous. 

What was there to be nervous about? It was only Snape, after all. Not a monster. Not even a petty, spiteful Snape. Since the war had ended, he hadn't said a single unkind word to Harry.

He hadn't said a single word to him in general, actually. 

Harry didn't complain. He was sure he had his reasons for doing so.

\--

"To what do I owe the prodigious honor of being visited in person by the Savior of the Wizarding World?" Snape asked in his usual scathing drawl without looking up from the neatly arranged papers on his desk. 

Harry squirmed in the seat Snape had waved him into, itching to grumble about not being anybody's bloody savior, but restrained himself. The comment was meant to rile him, and Harry wasn't going to fall for it. He didn't want to fall into their same old routine from before the war. 

Things were different now. And Harry needed the man's help anyway. 

\--

He needed an expert's opinion—an expert on the Dark Arts. But more importantly, he needed someone he could trust. Harry didn't trust him implicitly, of course, but he could trust him to keep the conversation to himself, regardless of whether his worries were founded or not. 

"I need to ask you a question, sir," Harry said a little too loudly to fool anyone into thinking he wasn't uneasy. 

Snape paused in his scribbling, though he still didn't look up at Harry, and said slowly, "Potter, if this pertains to your mother…"

"It doesn't, sir," Harry reassured quickly. 

Snape nodded. 

\--

"When Voldemort was alive, I could only speak Parseltongue because of the curse bond between us." Harry licked his lips before continuing. "So then after he died, it would make sense that I'd lose the ability."

"Yes, _obviously_ , Potter," Snape said scornfully. He finally looked away from his paperwork to give Harry a proper scowl, and then promptly returned to it. "Did you just come here to mutter inane facts at me, or do you have a point? If so, reach it."

Harry shifted in his seat and rubbed his moist palms against the black fabric of his school robes.

\--

"What if I can still speak it—Parseltongue?" 

Snape froze. 

"What would that mean?"

When Snape's gaze fixed on him, his face appearing pale and almost stricken, Harry had to steel himself to keep going. 

"Hermione thinks I'm just being paranoid, but—" He stopped, not sure if he could speak his fears aloud, not when Snape was beginning to look ill. "But if he's dead—if he's _really_ dead—how can I still speak it?"

"Potter, if this is a joke, it is _not amusing_." 

"Do you really think I would joke about something like this?" Harry asked, incredulous. 

\--

"Show me," he demanded, ignoring Harry's question. 

Harry did as he'd ordered, but not before shooting him a glare. He hissed a few insults at him in Parseltongue—the only retribution he'd get for the man's slight.

If possible, Snape paled even further. 

"Impossible," he whispered, staring at Harry's mouth as if he expected Voldemort to fall out of it at any second.

"So I'm not paranoid then?" Harry said with a nervous laugh. "Wait til I tell Hermione. She’ll be so annoyed she was wrong." He ran a hand through his hair and had to look away from Snape. 

\--

The horror on the man's face was too much to bear, not just because it confirmed Harry's suspicions about his continued ability to speak Parseltongue, but also because Snape shouldn't have been so easy to read. If he was unnerved, Harry wasn't sure there was a word in the any language that could describe his fear. 

"What should I do?" Harry asked after a long silence that agitated him more and more as it progressed. 

As if awoken from a stupor, Snape shook himself, his face closing down again—thankfully—and he frowned at Harry. "You? _You_ will do nothing." 

\--

"I, on the other hand, will look into the matter," Snape continued, settling into his commanding Headmaster voice. "Until such a time that I uncover something, you will speak of this to no one else. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded his acknowledgement but couldn't help but pouting a little. "Is there really nothing I can do to help?" 

"Of course there is, Potter, did you not hear me?" 

"What is it?" Harry asked, perking up. 

" _Nothing_ ," he hissed, leaning forward in his seat to give Harry the full effect of his glare. "Tell no one. Act as you would normally."

\--

He'd done what Snape had commanded—mostly. He hadn't told anyone, and he'd acted normally around others. But Snape hadn't said anything about not speaking or acting differently with _him_. 

So he'd felt at liberty to appear in Snape's office periodically during term to pester him about his progress until finally he'd lost his patience and recruited his help in researching. 

Snape let them settled into a hesitant partnership, which shifted into a quiet companionship after Harry demonstrated an ability to not only read the English language in the books they were studying, but also understand and _discuss_ it intelligently. 

\--

"No need to look so shocked," Harry had said while glowering at the floor, embarrassed by the man's praise—however reluctant it may have been. 

"But how can I not be, Mr. Potter? Never before have you shown any such signs of possessing acuity. I find it wholly unsettling."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, even at his own expense. 

"What's unsettling is your sense of humor," Harry had countered. "Venomous potions masters are not supposed to find anything funny, let alone make _jokes_. It's horrifying."

Snape didn’t laugh, but smirked, which was as close as he usually got to it. 

\--

By the time they came up with something, term had all but ended. In only two weeks Harry would graduate and the move onto Auror training—possibly to never see Snape again, which would've been brilliant only a few months ago. But things were different now. 

"Of course," Snape said, sitting up straighter in his chair by the fire across from Harry. 

"Have you found something?" Harry asked, immediately abandoning his own reading. 

"It's Nagini," he said, lifting his nose from the book to stare at Harry in triumph. "It must have to do with Nagini."

Harry's brow furrowed. "How?" 

\--

"Offspring," Severus said as he got up and started pacing like he usually did when he was thinking too fast to sit still. "When creatures have offspring, parts of the soul from both parents are transcribed into the soul or souls of the offspring to create a completely new and unique soul for each one."

"Sort of like DNA and genetics?" he asked for clarification, wanting to understand. 

"Yes, precisely," Snape said, glancing at Harry with something akin to approval on his face. Even after all the time they'd spent together, growing closer, it was still strange to see sometimes. 

\--

He smiled slightly, pleased, but then quickly frowned again when his thoughts turned back to the subject at hand. 

"What does all that have to do with Nagini though?"

"She laid a clutch of eggs not long before the Final Battle." 

Harry felt sick as the implication clicked in his mind. "So you think the hatchlings have pieces of Voldemort's soul inscribed along with their own."

Snape nodded. And smiled—actually, properly smiled. 

Harry's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "And that's…a _good_ thing?" 

"Don't you see?" He stepped closer to Harry, holding his gaze. "They're only inscriptions. Not real pieces."

\--

"Which means…what exactly?" Harry had thought he'd understood, but apparently not. 

"Were you even listening, Potter?" he said, rolling his eyes. "The hatchlings have mere copies of the Dark Lord's soul. And only in small pieces of an already fragmented soul. They're more like his children than his horcruxes." He waved his hand around as if the analogy offended him. "And in order for a horcrux to be functional, it must contain a piece of the _original_ soul, not just a copy. If all one required was a simple copy, we would all be immortal."

"So he can't be resurrected." 

\--

"Indeed not," Snape confirmed. 

A tension in Harry relaxed. Everyone was safe. Thank Merlin.

"So how can I speak Parseltongue?" He still didn't quite understand. 

Snape sat back down in his chair and summoned an elf to bring them tea. "The transcriptions are enough of his soul for that. Likely your curse bond will link you superficially with all the hatchlings and their offspring—as well as your children to them—ad nauseum, allowing you all to be Parselmouths." 

Harry decided he could live with that. It wasn't like being able to talk to snakes was a terribly burdensome skill. 

\--

The tea arrived and the two of them shared a cup together in comfortable silence as they both ruminated over the averted crisis. 

Harry watched Snape surreptitiously over his tea, smiling softly. 

"Do you have something to say, Potter? Staring is rude," Snape intoned when he caught him. 

"You're brilliant, you know." 

"I do."

Harry chuckled. "And funny. Endlessly, surprisingly funny." 

"Your astuteness has grown considerably in our time together," Snape commented, preening visibly, which made Harry feel terribly fond of him. "I claim full responsibility."

He grinned at the joke but couldn't help the melancholy that stained its edges. 

\--

"I wish it didn't have to end—our time together," he said quietly as he stirred his cooling tea. 

Now that they'd solved the mystery, there was no more reason for Harry to continue taking up the man's time, especially since he would be leaving Hogwart's soon. It left him feeling rueful and dejected. 

"It doesn't," Snape said softly and Harry's eyes shot up to stare at him with hope. "I would not be opposed to continuing our…" He shifted minutely in his seat with discomfort but still continued with his head held high. " _liason_ , if that was your wish."

\--

Severus's bed was the most wonderful place in the world. It was warm, comfy, and—best of all—it came with its very own naked Snape to cuddle and play with. Really, there was no reason to ever leave it that he could fathom. 

"You must bathe yourself before departing for the Aurors, Harry. You positively reek of love-making."

Well, maybe there were a few reasons. But they were depressing, so he hissed a few choice words at his bedmate in Parseltongue. 

Severus snorted. "Hush and employ your tongue in more prudent tasks."

Grinning, Harry turned to do just that.


End file.
